CHAPTER XXII
JACQUELIN GRAY COMES HOME AND CLAIMS A GRAVEYARD
When Jacquelin Gray returned home, his arrival was wholly unexpected.His ship had reached port only a few days before and he had planned totake his friends by surprise, and, without giving any notice, had atonce started for home. He would hardly have been known for the sameman: in place of the pallid and almost bed-ridden invalid who had beenborne away on a stretcher a year or two back, appeared a vigorous,weather-browned man, almost as stalwart as Steve himself. The first torecognize him was Waverley, who had been sent to the railroad by Mrs.Gray to try and get news of him.
“Well b’fo’ de Lord!” exclaimed the old man, “ef dat ain’t!—” Hepaused and took another scrutinizing look, and, with a bound forward,broke out again. “Marse Jack, you done riz f’um de dead. Ef I didn’think ’twas my ole marster—er de Injun-Killer. Bless de Lord!—you’sjest in time. My mistis sen’ me down fur a letter—she say she ’bleegedto have a letter to-day. But dis de bes’ letter could ’a’ come in diswull fur her. Yas, suh, she’ll git well now.” He took in the wholecrowd confidentially. He was wringing Jacquelin’s hand in an ecstasy ofjoy, and the welcome of the others was not less warm, if less voluble.Under it all, however, was something that struck Jacquelin and went tohis heart—something plaintive—different from what he had expected.The negroes too had changed. The hearty laughter had given place tosomething that had the sound of bravado in it. The shining teeth werenot seen as of old. Old Waverley’s words sent a chill through him. Whatcould they mean?
How was his mother? And aunt—and all the others?—at Birdwood andeverywhere? he asked.
His mistress had been “mighty po’ly, mighty po’ly indeed,” the oldservant said. “Been jes’ pinin’ fur you to git back. What meck you stayso long, Marse Jack? Hit must be a long ways ’roun de wull? But she’llbe all right now. De Doctor say you de bes’ physic she could git. Allde others is well.”
“And all at Birdwood?” asked Jacquelin.
“‘Tain’t Budwood you’s axin’ ’bout. Washy Still, he’s at Budwood. Demyou want know ’bout is at Mis’ Bellers! Washy Still thought he wuzgwine git one o’ dem whar wuz at Budwood; but he ain’t do it. Rich orno rich, dee tun up dey nose at him—and all he git wuz de nest arterde bud done fly. Dee look higher’n him I knows. But I mighty glad youcome. Marse Steve, he’s dyah. He’s a big man now. You’s done stay awaytoo long. He’s one o’ de leaders.”
What could this mean?
As Jacquelin drove homeward with the old man he discovered what itmeant; for Waverley was not one to take the edge from a blow. He had asympathetic heart and he made the most of it.
“Marse Jack, de debble is done broke loose, sho!” he wound up. “Deoverseer is in de gret house, and de gent’man’s in de blacksmiff shop.I wonders sometimes dat old Injun-Killer don’ come down out de picturesho ’nough—like so many o’ dem dead folks what comin’ out dey graves.”
“What’s that?” asked Jacquelin.
“Dat’s what dee tells me,” protested Waverley. “De woods and roads isfull on ’em at night. An’ you can’t git a nigger to stir out by hisselfarter dark. I b’lieves it, and so does plenty o’ urrs.” He gave alittle nervous laugh.
“What nonsense is this?” demanded Jacquelin.
“‘Tain’ no nonsense, Marse Jack. ’Tis de fatal truf—Since sich doin’sbeen goin’ on, de graves won’ hole ’em. De’s some knows ’tain’ nononsense. Dee done been to de house o’ several o’ dese sarsy niggerswhar done got dee heads turned and gin ’em warnin’ an’ a leetle tetcho’ what’s comin’ to ’em. Dee went to Moses’ house turr night an’ ginhim warnin’. Moses wa’nt dyah; but dee done lef him de wud—cut threecross marks in de tree right side he do’; an’ he wife say dee leetlemo’ drink de well dry. One on ’em say he shot in de battle nigh heahand was cut up in de ole horspittle, and dat he jes come from tormentto gi’ Moses an’ Sherrod an’ Nicholas Ash warnin’. Dee say he drink sixwater-bucketfuls and hit run down he guzzle sizzlin’ jes like po’in’ ’ton hot stove. Moses say he don’ mine ’em; but I tell you he better!” Asudden gleam of shrewdness crossed the old fellow’s face.
“Things had done got pretty bad, Marse Jack,” the old man went on,confidentially. “Hiram Still and Cun’l Leech, dee owned ev’y thing,and ef you didn’t do what dee say you couldn’ turn roun’. Hiram, heturn’ me out my shop jes soon as he got our place; an’ soon as he finehe couldn’t git my young mistis, he turn’ de Doctor out. Look likehe and dat urr man, Leech, sutney is got a grudge ’ginst all o’ weall. Dee done put dee cross marks ’ginst Hiram too. Some say ’twas deInjun-Killer. Leech say he don’ mine ’em—he’s gwine to be gov’ner an’he say he’ll know how to settle ’em; but Hiram, sence he fine dat markon de porch and on de tree, he walks right smart lighter’n he did.”
As they neared the county seat they met a body of negroes marching. Theofficers yelled at them to get out of the way, and old Waverley pulledout to one side. “What are they?” asked Jacquelin.
“Dem’s Cun’l Leech’s soldiers,” said Waverley—“dem’s de mellish. Whenyou meets dem you got to git out ’n de way, I tell you.”
The change in the aspect of the county in the few years of his absenceimpressed Jacquelin. It seemed to him greater even than that which hadtaken place during the war. The fields were more grown up; the housesmore dilapidated. But as much as these warned him, Jacquelin was notprepared for the change which on his arrival at Dr. Cary’s he found hadtaken place.
His mother’s appearance struck a chill to his heart. His mother hadbecome an old woman. She had kept everything from him that coulddisturb him. He was shocked at the change which illness had made inher, and all he could do was to try and conceal his anguish.
He sought Dr. Cary and had a long talk with him; but the Doctor couldnot hold out any hope. It was simply a general breakdown, he told him:the effect of years of anxiety. “You cannot transplant old trees,” hesaid, sadly. Jacquelin ground his teeth in speechless self-reproach.
“Ah! my dear Jacquelin, there are some things that even you could nothave changed,” said the Doctor, with a deep sigh.
As Jacquelin looked at him the expression on the old physician’s facewent to his heart.
“Yes, I know,” he said, softly. “Ah! well, we’ll pull through.”
“You young men, perhaps; not we old ones. We are too broken to weatherthe storm. Your father was the fortunate one.”
As the young man went out from this interview he met Blair. She hadjust come in from her school; her cheeks were all aglow and she gavehim a warm handclasp—and her eyes, after the first glance into his,fell. He was sure from what he had heard that she was engaged to Steve,and he had rehearsed a hundred times how he should meet her. Now like apuff of wind went all his strong resolutions. It was as though he hadopened a door toward the sunrise. A fresh sense of her charm came overhim as though he had just discovered her. Her presence appeared to himto fill all the place. She had grown in beauty since he went away. Shewas blushing and laughing and running away from Steve, who had met heroutside and told her of Jacquelin’s arrival, and was calling to herthrough the door to come back; but after shaking hands with Jacquelinshe sped on upstairs, with a little side glance at him as she ran up.She had never appeared so beautiful to Jacquelin, and his heart leapedup in him at her charm. It was the vision that had gone with him allaround the globe. He followed her with his eyes. As she turned at thetop of the stairs his heart sank; for, leaning down over the banisters,she gave Steve a glance so full of meaning that Jacquelin took it allin in an instant.
“I’m going to tell him,” called Steve, teasingly.
“No, you promised me you would not, Steve,” and she was gone.
Jacquelin turned to the door.
Steve called him:
“Jack, Jack, come here.”
But Jacquelin could not stand seeing him at that moment. He wanted tobe alone, and he went out to meet the full realization of it
all byhimself.
Jacquelin made up his mind at once. Although Doctor and Mrs. Carypressed him to stay with them, he felt that he could not live in thehouse with Blair. How could he sit by and see her and Steve day byday! Steve was as a brother to him, and Blair, from her manner, meantto be a sister; but he could not endure it. He declared his intentionof starting at once to practise law. Steve offered him a partnership,meeting Jacquelin’s objection that it would not be fair, with thestatement that he would make Jacquelin do all the work, as he proposedto be a statesman.
So, as the Doctor had said that a change and occupation in householdduties might possibly do Mrs. Gray good, Jacquelin rented a smallfarm between the Carys’ and the old hospital-place on the river, andthey moved there. His mother and Miss Thomasia furnished it with theassistance of Mrs. Cary, and Blair, and other neighbors; the old piecesof furniture and other odds and ends giving, as Miss Thomasia said, “adistinction which even the meanness of the structure itself could notimpair. For, my dear,” she said to Blair, who was visiting them theevening after they had made their exodus from Dr. Cary’s to their newhome, “I have often heard my grandfather say that nothing characterizedgentle-people more than dignity under misfortune.” And she smootheddown her faded dress and resumed her knitting with an air which Blairin vain tried to reproduce to her father on her return.
Jacquelin was vaguely conscious that a change had come, not only overthe old county since he left it, but over his friends also. Not merelyhad the places gone down, but the people themselves were somewhatchanged. They looked downcast; their tone, formerly jovial and cheery,had a tinge of bitterness. In those few years a difference betweenhim and them had grown up. He did not analyze it, but it was enoughto disquiet him. Had his point of view changed? He saw defects whichhe thought he could remedy. Those he was with, apparently saw none.They simply plodded on, as though oblivious of the facts. It made himunhappy. He determined to use his enlarged view, as he deemed it, toinstruct and aid those who lacked his advantages. It seemed to himthat, in his travels, his horizon had widened. On the high seas or ina foreign land, it had been the flag of the nation that he wanted tosee. He had begun to realize the idea of a great nation that should beknown and respected wherever a ship could sail or a traveller couldpenetrate; of a re-united country in which the people of both sides,retaining all the best of both sides, should vie with each other inbuilding up the nation, and should equally receive all its benefits. Hehad pondered much on this, and he thought he had discovered the way toaccomplish it, in a complete acceptance of the new situation.
It was a great blow to Jacquelin to find on his return whatextraordinary changes had taken place in the county: Still, occupyingnot only his old home, but Dr. Cary’s; Leech the supreme power in allpublic matters in the county; Nicholas Ash driving a carriage, withmoney that must have been stolen; and almost the entire gentry of theState either turned out of their homes or just holding on, while thosewhom he had left half-amused children playing at the game of freedmen,were parading around the country in all the bravery and insolence of anarmed mob. All this was a shock to him. He spoke of his views to Dr.Cary. The Doctor was the person who had first suggested the idea to hismind, and was the one who, he felt, was the soundest and safest guideto follow. In the little that he had seen of him since his return hehad found him, as he knew he would be, precisely the same he had alwaysbeen, absolutely calm and unruffled. To his astonishment the Doctorshook his head.
“It is Utopian. I thought so myself formerly and, as you may remember,incurred much animadversion and some obloquy. I did not care a buttonabout that. But I am not sure that General Legaie and those who agreedwith him, whose action I at that time thought the height of folly, werenot nearer right than I was. I am sure my principle was correct, and,perhaps, had they yielded and gone in with us at the beginning it mighthave been different; but I am not certain as to it now.” He bowed hishead in deep and painful reflection.
“It is now _vae victis_, and the only hope is in resistance,” heproceeded, sadly. “Yielding is esteemed simply a confession ofcowardice. The miscreants who rule us know no restraint except fear.You will be astonished when I tell you that the last few years havealmost overthrown the views I have held for a lifetime. I am neareragreeing with Legaie than I ever was in my whole life.” The old fellowshook his head in deep despondency over this fatal declension.
Jacquelin did not agree with him. He had all a young man’s confidence.He determined that he would effect his ends by law. He shortly had anillustration of what the Doctor meant.
Mrs. Gray was failing steadily. The strain she had undergone had beentoo much for her. She had lived only until Jacquelin’s return.
To the end, all her heart was on her old home. In those last days shewent back constantly to the time when she had come as a bride to herhome adorned with all that love and forethought could devise. The warand the long years of struggle seemed to have been blotted out and hermemory appeared only to retain and to dwell on every scene of the oldlife. One of her constant thoughts was: If she could only have lain atthe old home, at her husband’s side! So, she passed quietly away. Inthe watches of the last night, when no one was with her but Jacquelin,after she had talked to him of Rupert and confided him to his care, sheasked Jacquelin if he thought she might ever be taken home. His fatherand she had picked out the spot under one of the great trees.
“Mother,” said Jacquelin, kneeling beside her and holding one of herthin, transparent hands in his, “if I live and God is good to me, youshall lie there.”
He had consulted General Legaie and Steve on the subject, and theyboth had thought that the burying-ground had not been conveyed in thedeed to Still, though Leech, to whom, as counsel for Still, they hadbroached the matter, asserted that it had been included.
The day Mrs. Gray died, Dr. Cary wrote a note to Still on Jacquelin’sbehalf, though without his knowledge, indicating his cousin’s wish tobury his mother beside his father, and saying that it would not be heldto affect any question of ownership at issue between them.
To this Still replied that while he should be “very glad to do anythingthat Dr. Cary or _any member of his family_ asked for _themselves_,” hewould not permit any _outsider_ to be buried on his place, especiallyone who had insulted him; that he did not acknowledge that any questionexisted as to his title; and that he was prepared to show that, ifso, it was unfounded. He added that he was “going to remove thetomb-stones, cut down the trees, clear up the place, and get rid of theold grave-yard altogether.”
A part of the letter was evidently written by a lawyer.
Dr. Cary felt that he could not withhold this notification fromJacquelin. Before doing so, however, he consulted General Legaie. Thelittle General’s eyes snapped as he read the letter. “Ah! if he wereonly a gentleman!” he sighed. The next moment he broke out. “I’ll laymy riding-whip across the dog’s shoulders! That’s what I’ll do.” TheDoctor tried to soothe him. He would show the letter to Jacquelin, hesaid. The General protested. “My dear sir, if you do, there will betrouble. Young men are so rash. They have not the calm deliberationthat we have.” The Doctor, recalling his conversation with Jacquelin,said he thought he could rely on his wisdom. “If he sees that letterthere will be trouble,” asserted the General, “or he is not the nephewof his—ahem! not the son of his father.” However, the Doctor was firm.So he broke the matter to Jacquelin. To their surprise, Jacquelin tookit very quietly; he did not say anything nor appear to mind it a greatdeal. The General’s countenance fell. “Young men have changed since myday,” he said, sadly.
So Mrs. Gray was buried in what had been a part of the church-yardof the old brick-church, and Jacquelin, walking with his arm aroundRupert, was as quiet as Miss Thomasia.
That afternoon he excused himself from the further attendance of hisfriends, left his aunt and Rupert and walked out alone. He went firstto the house of his neighbor, Stamper. Him Jacquelin told of hispurpose. Stamper wished to accompany him; but he would not permit that.“Hav
e you got a pistol?” asked Stamper. No, he was not armed, he said;he only wanted his friend to know, “in case anything should happen.”Then he walked away in the direction of Red Rock, leaving littleStamper leaning on the bars looking after him rather wistfully until hehad disappeared.
He had not been gone long when Stamper started after him. “If he getshold of him, I’m afeared he’ll kill him,” he muttered as he hurriedalong.
It was after sunset, and Hiram Still was sitting alone in the hall atRed Rock, by a table in the drawers of which he kept his papers. Henever liked to sit in the dark, and had just called for a light. He waswaiting for it. He was not in a good humor, for he had had something ofa quarrel with Leech, and his son Wash had taken the latter’s side. Theyoung doctor was always taking sides against him these days. They hadmade him write Dr. Cary that he was going to clear up the grave-yard,and he was not at all sure that it was a good thing to do; he hadalways heard that it was bad luck to break up a grave-yard, and nowthey had left him alone in the house. Even the drink of whiskey he hadtaken had not restored his good spirits.
Why did not the light come? He roared an oath toward the open door.“D——n the lazy niggers!”
Suddenly there was a step, or something like a step, near him—he wasnot sure about it, for he must have been dozing—and he looked up. Hisheart jumped into his throat. Before him in the hall stood, tall andgray, the “Indian-killer,” his eyes blazing like coals of fire.
“Good God!” he gasped.
No, it was speaking—it was a man. But it was almost as bad. Still hadnot seen Jacquelin before in two years. And he had never noticed howlike the “Indian-killer” he was. What did he want?
“I have come to see you about the grave-yard,” said Jacquelin. Thevoice was his father’s. It smote Still like a voice from the dead.
Still wanted to apologize to him; but he could not speak, his throatwas dry. There was a pistol in the drawer before him and he pulled thedrawer open and put his hand on it. The cold steel recalled him tohimself and he drew it toward him, his courage reviving. Jacquelin musthave heard the sound; he was right over him.
“If you attempt to draw that pistol on me,” he said, quietly, “I willkill you right where you sit.”
Whether it was the man’s unstrung condition, or whether it wasJacquelin’s resemblance to the fierce Indian-killer, as he stood therein the dusk with his eyes burning, his strong hands twitching, orwhether it was his unexpected stalwartness and fierceness as he toweredabove the overseer, the latter sank back with a whine.
A negro entered at a side door with a light, but stood still, amazed atthe scene, muttering to himself: “Good Lordy!”
Jacquelin went on speaking. He told Still that if he cut down somuch as a bush in that grave-yard until he had a decision of courtauthorizing him to do so, he would kill him, even if he had the wholeGovernment of the United States around him.
“Now, I have come here to tell you this,” he said, in the same quiet,strange voice, “and I have come to tell you one thing more, that youwill not be in this place always. We are coming back here, the livingand the dead.”
Still turned even more livid than before. “What do you mean?” he gasped.
“What I say, we are coming back.” He swept his eye around the hall,turned on his heel, and walked toward the picture over the fireplace.Just then a gust of wind blew out the lamp the negro held, leaving thehall in gloom. When the servant came back with a light, according tothe story that he told, Still was raving like a mad-man, and he drankwhiskey and raved all night.
BEFORE HIM STOOD, TALL AND GRAY, THE INDIAN-KILLER.]
Neither Still nor Jacquelin ever spoke of the interview; but a storygot abroad in the neighborhood that the old Indian-killer had appearedto Still the night of Mrs. Gray’s burial and threatened him with deathif he should ever touch the grave-yard. Still said he had never meantto touch it anyhow, and that Leech had made him put it in the letterfor a joke. It was, however, a dear joke.
For a time there was quite a coolness between the friends; but they hadtoo much in common to be able to afford to quarrel, so it was made up.
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